Colors
by spoiled princez
Summary: She's fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won't let her off that easily. Ryousuke x OC. Cross-posted on AO3.
1. That hair is legit

**Disclaimer: Daiya no Ace belongs to Yuji Terajima.**

 **10/28/2018 edit: Okay, I just realized that I haven't described how she looks like yet, so I went back from the beginning to drop some physical attributes here and there. Hopefully I could paint her clear enough!**

* * *

Pink.

It's the color always filled in last. In her watercolor, oil pastel, colored pencil, and rarely, crayon drawings— the best is always saved for the last. Sometimes, even, pink would be the only color seen, and always in that one specific feature, with the rest of the drawing left uncolored.

It's not her favorite. In fact, it is so overused, it basically blends into the background. It's in shop displays, clothes, cell phones, toiletries. More so on girls' birthdays, and of course, Valentine's Day.

So, what sparked the partiality?

Pink is usually associated with the female population. And being surrounded all her life by girls who, along with her, have belongings seasoned with pink here and there (even if, for some reason, most would claim they hate pink), she has gotten used to the notion.

So to see it in the sun-beaten, dust-ridden, testosterone-dominated baseball field is, well, intriguing.

A random passerby the brunette had been that day when the sun caught the out-of-place color. She had thought it was someone's t-shirt that got unfortunately mixed in with the wrong laundry pile (because it was kind of low). But there it had shone in all its glory under the sun—a mop of pink hair.

Hair. A permanent feature of a person.

Person. She'd been staring at a person.

Her new muse.

Well, okay, maybe she hadn't been just a random passerby. She had to audition for the art club. So she had decided to impress them by trying to master drawing a moving subject. And who could be more perfect than someone from Seidou's baseball team? (Besides, the female art club members wouldn't really dislike a bit of fanservice.)

Informed that a practice game within the members of the team would happen that afternoon, she had rushed over and luckily found a nice spot.

That was when that head of cotton candy pink had emerged from the dugout, and since then, she couldn't look away.

A drawing of him in an almost-perfect double play was produced. She had passed the audition, got in the art club. But she couldn't move on.

She couldn't stop drawing.

Weeks had passed. His name, she had learned, was Kominato Ryousuke. A second-year back then (at first, it had surprised her—for very obvious reasons—though she's not really one to talk).

Now, why pink? Surely it's just hair dye, but still, why pink? He doesn't look like someone who's that hungry for attention.

Weeks turned into a year of near-daily observing and drawing, and she'd hauled home a bag full of papers from her apartment. It's not all Kominato, though. There's also the Seidou team—old and new—with a bespectacled young catcher rivaling the amount of drawings she has of the second baseman.

Honestly, she's not interested in the person. Severe bluntness aside, you'd also never really know if he's looking at you. That's pretty scary, right? It's _uncute_.

It's just his oddly beautiful hair that she adores. And now, there's one more year left to admire it. Just one more year of Kominato filling her sketchbooks.

Somehow, it feels lonely.

And she had to cringe at that. Shake her head. Slap herself thrice.

They're not even friends.

But it really doesn't help that just months ago, while gazing out the snowy surroundings from inside the crowded train back home, she had seen that familiar pink reflected in the glass. But as she had turned to get a better look, he already got off the train. Off one station away from hers.

Of course, she wouldn't go so far as finding out where his house is. The only effort she'd do for him is to go to his games. She won't even try getting close. Just drawing from a distance is enough.

She has a life apart from Kominato Ryousuke.

Or so she thinks.

The new school year rolls in. Stepping out of the train to Tokyo, she unmistakably sees again a flash of the pink she'd grown accustomed to.

So before she knew it, her feet are hurrying over to him. And like it's been bottled up in her for so long, she calls out, "Kominato –!" But then, she misses a step and almost tackles her pink-haired senior to the ground.

Luckily, he had turned to her before she even finished. She falls into his chest, but stays upright because of his hold on her shoulders.

It makes her heart thump loudly in her ears. Not out of excitement. But out of fear. Definitely no lovely, tingly feelings here. Because this is not a romantic encounter. She is in an embarrassing (and crowd-disturbing) situation with _Kominato Ryousuke_ of all people. "I-I'm so sorry, Kominato… -san…?"

She had looked up to see that his cheeks are starting to glow bright red as he slowly releases her. Also…

"Hair…" She absentmindedly stares.

Kominato's fox-eyes are already too small, so wouldn't he have difficulty seeing if he covered them with bangs? "I-I think you've got the wrong person." And he's got a too-soft voice. No way would Kominato Ryousuke be nice to people who almost knocked him down in a crowded station.

Her eyes widen, processing his words just five or so seconds later. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She bows apologetically. "I just happen to know someone with the same hair color. Didn't think it's a fast-growing trend in hair dyeing."

"Hair dye?"

"I mean, there's no way that's natural, right? Anyway, sorry for bothering you!" She bows again, laughing nervously, and turns to make a run for it. Adrenaline would get her out of there despite her bags' weights. But, as if suddenly realizing something, she stops. "Although you reacted when I called his name."

The guy takes a deep breath. "I _am_ Kominato. Kominato Haruichi." The blush in his cheeks lightens to a rosy pink as he mutters, "Aniki must not have mentioned me to his friends yet."

"Aniki?"

"Kominato Ryousuke." He slightly turns his head away. "You mistook me for my older brother."

A few moments of silence unfold as she blinks back at him. "You mean… natural pink hair is actually a thing?"

* * *

Haruichi, she learns, would be a freshman member of Seidou High's baseball team.

In the short time they had walked together (her apartment is conveniently in the same path as Seidou's), she could say Haruichi is the polar opposite of his brother. The younger Kominato is sweet and easily flustered, though that's not necessarily a bad thing.

It's like they're only similar physically.

Both of their eyes are a mystery. While Haruichi has his eyes hidden by his too-long bangs, the older brother has too-small eyes that you'd only probably see if you stand close to him. And who would want to be at such short distance from him? He's pretty much feared by his underclassmen, maybe even by his peers.

They also have the same height despite the two-year difference. Although she can't really laugh at that, because the first-year's even taller than her.

And of course, they both have the same eye-catching, genetically pink hair.

From behind, they look so identical.

First day of school brings her once again to the first floor hallway of Seidou High. Taking her time to get to the stairs leading to the second-year classrooms, she sees him.

"Ha~ru~ichiii!" She grabs his shoulders, expecting a surprised yelp and a cute blush. "Good mor… ning…" She instantly freezes.

"Oh, Stalker-chan! What pose shall I do for you today?"

Slowly, she backs away. "Kominato-san…"

"Ah, so drawing people without their permission isn't enough for you now? You decided to be a higher level of creep by touching them?"

"I-I didn't mean to… I only thought you're…" She gulps and looks away, but glances back with a frown. "And I thought I told you before—!"

"You're incomprehensible as ever."

"No, you just cut me off!"

"You're incapable of completing a decent sentence. It got irritating. Did you think that's cute?"

"I-I wouldn't want to be cute for you."

The senior goes silent.

Unnerved, she looks away again.

Then he continues, "As if I'd see you that way, anyway. When did stalkers even look cute? They're feared."

" _You're_ the scary one."

He leans in, to which she steps back. He smirks. "Are you actually trembling?"

"No!"

"You're really loud. Just go to your classroom, _creep._ " He points behind him, at 1-B's classroom.

"As if you're any taller than these first-years."

"What was that?"

"Did you even grow from your first-year high school height?"

"Have you been watching me even before you got into Seidou? My, how scary."

"Don't be so full of yourself."

"Which reminds me! You seem to know Haruichi already. And you're close enough now for sneak attacks? He's only arrived here a few days ago. You've become increasingly dangerous by the minute, _Stalk~er_ -chan."

"It was just coincidence that—"

"Just get off my case, Stalker. Give me a peaceful final school year."

Pink.

The color of his beautiful hair.

The color of her flustered cheeks whenever she gets to interact – usually in a verbal battle that she loses – with her muse who has hated her guts since the beginning.

* * *

 **I miss Daiya no Ace so much, but I don't read sports manga so I have to wait for Act II to have enough material for an anime adaptation. And I miss Aniki so much as well. And even then, Ryou-san would most likely have little to no exposure there anymore, so I just have to write this to compensate for the loneliness. And also because Ryou-san needs more love. And I want to write Ryousuke x OC fluff just because.**

 **First time in a long time to write something from the heart, so this first chapter ended up pretty long.**

 **Anyway, what did you think? Please let me know through reviews!**

 **This isn't done yet, btw. She needs a name, you know ;) Please stay tuned for the next chapters!**


	2. Not even an acquaintance, but a nuisance

**10/28/2018 edit: Like I said, I'd drop physical attributes of hers here and there.**

* * *

Snickers.

She hears snickers. From the people passing them by, and a certain distinct one.

"What did I even do wrong?" she asks distractedly. "I just made a mistake."

"Exactly."

That chuckling continues. She wants to cry. Out of humiliation and relief at the same time.

"Huh?" She blinks, then realizes, her eyes widening before settling back to a small frown. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with being friends with someone who just happened to be your brother." Her brown eyes now locks gazes with familiar ones of the same color, hidden behind thick black glasses. _Help me. Please._

The source of the annoying, mocking chuckles straightens up, but his eyes still laugh. _Not for free, right?_

 _You're unbelievable._

"Are you even friends?" Kominato pulls her back to attention, away from the three-second conversation of eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe you're just forcing it on him. Or you've been targeting him next."

"Stop treating me like some criminal."

"Ryou-san!"

She is pulled back by the scruff of her collar, her feet lifting off the ground a bit, as someone's broad back fills her vision. "Ack!" she almost chokes.

Their interrupter starts talking to the senior, allowing her to step further behind him to hide from eyes she couldn't even see. That's when a school bag is deliberately dropped on her feet.

She groans, but has to take it with her.

"Oh?" she hears Kominato as she steps onto the stairs. "So that's why she doesn't grow. Your girlfriend."

"Geh," both second-years gag.

Leaving the usual denial up to her _savior_ , she slips away as they easily slip into baseball talk, the school bags on each hand keeping her from running up the stairs. Reaching 2-B's classroom, the bag almost flies out the window, the way it bumped into the sill before it landed on the desk behind the one she'd chosen for herself. She then hunches over on her own desk, making fake sobbing noises.

Black.

Interacting with Kominato Ryousuke, which she tries so hard not to do, always leaves her feeling dark and gloomy.

She's used to non-friendly banters, but this is something else. He'd always manage to work her up with just one word from him. And she ends up spouting unintelligible things that would put her into more of a disadvantage.

What was she even thinking? Even back at the train station. What could have happened if ever she had encountered the older Kominato back then?

So much for wanting to advance to the 'friends' category.

"Bop." A light tap on the back of her head.

Almost instantly, she turns with both arms outstretched. "You-!"

"Not the glasses, no marks on skin," the male brunette warns, which temporarily halts her actions until he sits down.

"Ka-zu-yaaa!" She settles on pulling his bangs with every syllable before flopping face-down again, now on his desk. "Kazuya," she groans, "I'm so stupid."

Black. That's all she can see right now.

How wonderful would it be to sink in darkness and stay there forever.

"I'd be lonely," she hears Miyuki say.

So she said that out loud. "Ew, Kazuya. Please listen to yourself."

But if only she'd stop seeing color—no, if she'd only stop seeing that pink, she'd stop approaching it like a moth to a flame.

She buries her face into the blackness, wishing for a black hole to swallow her up.

"Stop hugging that, it's not him." Miyuki carefully pulls his bag out from under her, replacing the black she's seeing with the beige desk.

She remains unmoving.

"Did you throw this? I have a packed lunch in here."

"I don't care because it's not true."

"My contacts and goggles are—"

"You have them back at the dorm."

"As expected of a stalker, huh?"

"As if."

Miyuki laughs. "Now what was that all about earlier?"

She groans again.

"I thought you've been avoiding direct interactions with Ryou-san? And now you do a surprise attack?"

"You mean you saw everything?" She shoots up, prompting Miyuki to lean back on his chair for she almost hit his chin.

"Of course." He grins.

"Then why...?"

He shrugs. "I was wondering what you're up to."

She sighs and looks out the window. "I thought he's Haruichi."

"Haruichi?"

"Ah!" She looks back at him. "Kazuya, why didn't you tell me Kominato-san has a little brother?"

He holds up both hands to chest-level. "Trust me, this is the first time I'm hearing this."

"He just joined the team! You met the new members last week, right?"

"Do you really expect me to remember every single new face?"

"But... but he has pink hair too! That'd be hard to miss!"

"What do you think do we do in the field? Gawk at each other and gossip?"

"Hmph." She crosses her arms. Then she lights up. "Aha! Maybe you got punished for being late!"

He chuckles. "All-seeing eye."

"Spot on!" She giggles. "So that's why you didn't have time to observe?"

"Don't be silly. Practice lasted for the whole day, we all ate in the same cafeteria, and live in the same dorm. It's just, for someone to be remembered, they should do something remarkable first. Or be a miserable failure." Miyuki glances out the window with a smirk.

 _Click_.

"Whoops, forgot to turn that off." She lowers her phone to see Miyuki raising an eyebrow at her. "Sorry, I need money."

"Since when did the little princess need money, huh?" he asks. "My face practically fills up your phone memory. How come you won't just take Ryou-san's pictures too? That way, chances of interaction are lowered." He leans forward. "Or do you just like looking at him in person?"

"I-I wouldn't deny that, but it's really not how you make it sound like. Besides, taking someone's picture attracts more attention. He'd really call the police."

"You think I wouldn't anytime soon?"

She laughs and pokes his cheek. "Of course you wouldn't! Kazuya loves me!"

"Listen to yourself, Aya."

"This is why you two are mistaken as a couple," a voice says beside them.

"Eh? Mochi's our classmate again?" she says monotonously, turning to the voice.

"Nice to see you again too, Aya." Kuramochi puts his bag down on his chair. "Wait, haven't you seen me in the opening ceremony earlier?"

"Of course she didn't," Miyuki butts in. "Her eyes are over to the third—"

"I was just kidding, Mochi!" she cuts off, waving her hand left and right, smacking lightly on Miyuki's cheek. "Don't take it to heart!"

"I thought so, actually," Kuramochi looks back and forth at them.

"And besides," Miyuki's at it again, "she wouldn't be mean to her strongest link to Ryou-san."

"I don't need to be linked to him! I'd cut off all ties you'd ever create between us two!"

"Woah, there!" Kuramochi laughs. "Maybe you should stop for now, Miyuki."

"What do you mean, 'for now?'"

It's so unfair.

' _I work and live for the aesthetic. It's only natural for me to get attracted to what I think is beautiful_ ,' she'd say. Or used to say.

Apparently it had only solidified the misunderstanding.

"You won't drop by practice?" Miyuki notices her heading the other direction after class.

"Aww, Kazuya, do you miss me that much?" she says sweetly as a joke. At Miyuki's deadpan expression, Aya continues walking. "It's recruitment day. I'm—I mean, my drawings—are Art Club's front liner."

"Oh. The double play drawing?"

She sighs. "And more."

The more she draws, the more she needs to observe. The more she needs inspiration, the more she gets teased.

"For Ryou-san's birthday?" she hears Kuramochi overhead.

She'd been sitting outside, a ways bit under a window. "Nah, an order. Miyuki Kazuya #5. I finished one of you, would you like to see…?" She looks up. "Really? It's his birthday?"

"I'm really more concerned now with how you make money."

"At least you know you have fangirls~"

"Huh." He leans out the window. "So do you accept commissions requesting Ryou-san too?"

"Why wouldn't I? It's money."

He shrugs. "I just thought you'd want to keep him for yourself."

Aya squints. "Shoo, Mochi, shoo."

"I'll request one for his birthday, with your full name and signature at the bottom. It has to have a huge 'Happy Birthday' in it."

"That's really sweet of you, to get a birthday gift for your beloved senior. But requests are closed. Go get a gift using your own effort."

Kuramochi laughs his usual. "I'd pay you double if you give it to him personally."

"…I-ignoring you." She picks her pencil up again.

The more she denies, the more she gets misunderstood.

"Makoto-san!" Someone taps her shoulder.

Aya turns around to find the three Seidou managers, plus a younger-looking girl wearing a similar jacket to them.

Sachiko's pigtails seem to bounce as she continues, "I knew you'd be here!"

Aya grins. "Of course! I love supporting the team!"

"And _him_?" Yui, the short-haired manager, smirks.

"And _Kazuya_." She beams proudly, despite noticing the two exchanging glances. "He's amazing, right? Three-run homer, man!"

"We know!" both second-year managers, somehow brought back to the excitement of the game with that, chorus.

She then turns to the youngest girl. "Hi!" She waves. "New manager?"

"Y-yes! My name's Yoshikawa Haruno, the first-year manager. Nice to meet you!" The girl bows.

She returns the bow. "Makoto Aya. I'm... a mere audience."

"She's Art Club's pride!" Sachiko says. "You might have seen her drawings of the team on recruitment day."

"U-uh..."

"She's also designed official banners for the team last year," Yui adds.

"W-well-"

"Really?" Yoshikawa faces her fully. "I did see those drawings! They're awesome!"

"T-thank you!" Aya laughs nervously.

"Oh, oh, since you've seen her drawings, have you seen that double play one?" Sachiko asks. "That one of-"

"Stop!"

"Back to the game, you four." Takako, the third-year beauty, smiles, which effectively hushes them.

It's the spring tournament. Seidou High is playing against Ichidai Third, with the former back to the top of the batting lineup.

Kuramochi, as they had all hoped, gets on base.

As the second batter steps up to the box, she tightens her hold on her sketchbook.

Black.

It's also how the surroundings seem to dim whenever he moves in the field. Like there's a spotlight. A pink spotlight, that is. His hair's the spotlight itself.

It's also something she does not want the field to look like for her after he graduates.

Kuramochi successfully steals a base almost at the same time Kominato hits, getting the latter on base as well.

Top of the second, no outs, runners on first and third.

Those two's teamwork has really gotten better since she had first drawn them. And it's a big credit to Kominato's strict training (and harsh words) that had inspired Kuramochi to improve.

"Aaaaand Makoto gets her pencil ready~"

Aya is startled by Yui's face on her shoulder. Even without anything on it yet, she holds the sketchbook to her chest as she turns to the four girls behind her—three of them grinning and one confused.

Everyone who knows about her quest for inspiration—basically the first-stringers, team managers, and the Art Club—would always interpret it as a cute crush on the pink-haired baseman.

Why? Just… why?

Well, she does lurk by the field almost everyday, she pauses to stare at him for a few seconds in the halls, and drawings of him fill her sketchbook and pile up under her study desk.

Man, she's creepy.

Maybe that's why Kominato hates her.

She's surprised she isn't banned from the field.

But really, _she just likes looking at him_.

He actually looks kind. Just don't let him talk. And he's so cool when he plays. She would dare say Kominato has made her like baseball again more than her cousin could ever influence her.

But that's it. _He's just easy on the eyes_. She doesn't see it necessary to have feelings for him. It is perfectly possible to simply admire someone without getting romantically involved, but these people wouldn't believe it.

If only she had not messed up just once—or rather twice—she wouldn't be marked as Kominato Ryousuke's number one fangirl.

* * *

 **2K+ words. I'm telling you, I've been enjoying writing so freely again ^^'**

 **So I was stumped with how I could connect her to Ryou-san since he's a third-year and she's a second-year. And then, "Woah yeah MIYUKI AND KURAMOCHI ARE SECOND-YEARS HOW COULD I FORGET" so yeah xD Miyuki is someone I want to glomp without any romantic intentions, so here. I just basically fleshed out her character and her interactions with other people in this chapter. The plot would move more in the next chapters (more rewatching for me!)**

 **Also, she now has a name! If you search for or already know what it means in Japanese, you might laugh :D**

 **Thank you for the responses (reviews, favorites, follows) I got last chapter! It means so much to me since I've only gotten back to writing fanfics after an almost two-year hiatus, plus Daiya isn't much of a big fandom (at least, from my circle of friends), and there aren't much romantic fics featuring Aniki out there. So thank youuuuu~**


	3. New (art) interest, he seems

**10/28/2018 edit: Now that I've properly rewatched, I had to tweak some technicalities when it comes to practice conditions or whatever. It makes things clearer and more consistent now, yay~**

* * *

The sun peeking out from the east paints the sky orange, excited to shine a brand new day.

As excited as she would look like to anyone now.

She had woken up minutes before 5 AM, but without a clue why.

It's not like she'd go watch even the team's early morning jog...

 _What could pink mixed with orange look like on him...?_

Aya jumps back from leaning out her apartment window the moment her eyes have wandered over to Seidou High standing tall at a distance, the boys' dorm just beside it. She's definitely _not_ about to elaborate on that train of thought.

Going back, why is she up so early today? It isn't even game day. And games actually happen in the afternoon. Moreover, it's still exactly a week before the Kanto tournament.

Well, okay, maybe she is too excited about that. Another major game, another major drawing.

But still, it's a week away. The players' days pass by faster for them compared to her who barely does anything physically draining.

The younger Kominato suddenly comes to mind. It has been weeks since their first meeting, and now it's one month into the school year but she still hadn't gotten the chance to approach him. Well, he is in the baseball team, and people there barely have a social life. Not that she's one to talk. She actually needs more friends with no affiliation whatsoever to baseball.

So. Haruichi. He wouldn't even be playing in the Kanto game. She'd been casually dropping by practice, and the two pink heads remain separate in the fields - the older obviously belonging to Field A for the first-stringers, and the younger stuck in Field B. And of course, she doesn't spend much time watching in Field B.

"Your new favorite might finally take the spotlight this Sunday's game." Miyuki eyes her bag.

"What's with Sunday?" Aya takes out two lunch boxes.

"The first-years get to play in their first scrimmage."

Orange like the sun resurfaces. That's it. Maybe she woke up so early because her body somehow 'predicted' she'd get exciting information? And it has something to do with Haruichi, too. "Against their seniors?"

"Yeah, except for the first-stringers." Miyuki leans forward on his desk. "So you won't get to see the brothers go head-to-head."

She stops, blinking. "...Now that you mention it, oh yeah. I haven't thought of that."

"Seriously?"

Aya nods. "I only ever wished Haruichi would at least get into second-string. Because, yes, Miyuki Kazuya's the only genius to become a starter on his freshman year."

"Why won't you say that more enthusiastically?"

"I mean, surely the older brother passed on his excellence."

"I got ignored." He rests his head on his hand. "Say, you're quite fixated on the Kominatos, huh? Is it like, since you can't get to the big brother, you'll move to the younger one?"

She stares him in the eye. "...That's offensive, you know. I'll charge you double."

"You don't mean that."

Aya smiles. "I'm not making moves on anyone. Although I'd say I want to be friends with the younger brother. _Only with him_."

"Aww, you'll break Ryou-san's heart."

" _If he has one_ , why would it?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? Ow!" Miyuki pulls back the hand she had just hit when he reached for one of the lunch boxes.

"Pay up first. Don't I always tell you that?"

"Ain't my time with you already enough? I know little Aya's been lonely."

She is. But this is business. She holds her hand out, palm up. "Nothing's ever free, remember?"

Miyuki sighs and hands her money.

Aya slides his lunch box toward him. "Now enjoy your _second-rate_ meal, sir."

"I see you're still bitter about that," Miyuki smirks.

* * *

Orange. It's also the color and name of a sour fruit.

As sour as her mood right now.

Her mother had suddenly demanded she get home over the weekend because it's been a month since she'd last seen Aya, and the teen had only been allowed to leave home by 3 PM.

The game, Miyuki had said, starts at 3.

Travel time is an hour. Plus the time she needs to gather her art materials (it takes more than five minutes to decide what to use, and you can't exactly decide faster if you're in a bad mood) and the walk from her apartment to the field. And because she's sulking, she loses all will to hurry up. She'd get there when she gets there...

 _And it's not like_ he'll _be playing_. A lingering thought at the back of her mind is shaken off.

This scrimmage has garnered quite the crowd, she observes when she finally arrives. But this is one of the rare times she's thankful for her height. Aya expertly manages to squeeze into the front of the crowd without anyone noticing and complaining.

Now, this is to be expected, right from the first time she had heard who'll be playing against whom. The second- and third-years are leading. Or more like, they're the only ones scoring runs. First-stringer or not, the upperclassmen would always be levels higher. The top players in their junior high schools are mere amateurs compared to them.

Then again, they've scored 5-2-3-7-1. The upperclassmen had completely wiped out the first-years halfway through the game, and she wasn't there to see it. Just how much had she missed?

It's Nori pitching now. She had expected Tanba, since he recently got moved down to second-string after Masuko. But having a fellow second-year in such a pivotal role makes her happy too.

And more importantly...

"Excuse me!" She smiles up at the man standing beside her outside the fence. "Had a pink-haired player among the first-years been at-bat already?"

"I don't think you should be calling him a first-year, Miss." The man scratches the back of his head.

She expects that, and Aya might have laughed out loud had the situation been different. Instead, she fakes a nervous laugh. "Oh, sorry, my bad."

"And besides, Kominato won't be playing in this game. The first-stringers are given a day off because of Kanto."

So she had heard. She thanks him and turns back to the field. From his reply, Aya deduces Haruichi still hasn't gone out to play yet.

"Don't give up! The game's only just begun!" the first-year on base shouts.

Oh, it's the Tire Guy! She'd heard how badly he wants to be a pitcher, but because of circumstances, he had gotten excluded from practices. Instead, he is stuck running with a tire all day. It sounds bad, but Aya had never seen him lose spirit.

And now he's playing! Good for him! But how about Haruichi?

She notices then how everyone seems to be in a state of unrest. Following some people's glances, she spots a familiar figure sitting in the bullpen having the time of his life watching the first-years try their hardest. A tall, black-haired guy approaches Miyuki. A first-year? Why isn't he in the dugout?

But before she could ask anyone, a voice she hadn't heard in weeks rings out. "Excuse me! I'd like to call for a change in players!"

Everyone's attention directs to the first-years' dugout, where her most-awaited Pink Hair No. 2 emerges. With a wooden bat, of all things. Isn't that heavier to swing?

"I'm playing as the pinch hitter!" he announces.

"Is he copying Furuya?" someone from the audience expresses his amusement.

"A guy who wants to leave before the game ends, a guy who calls himself into the game... this season's got some crazy first-years," another says.

So that's Furuya with Miyuki. What did he do to be allowed out of the game?

But her questions can wait.

This is the moment. She'd only been wishing for it a lot today, and now Haruichi steps up to the batter's box. He makes gestures at Tire Guy's direction.

"A sign?"

"What? When did they come up with signs?"

Her exact same thoughts are voiced out by the audience.

"What? Wait! What was that? You never briefed me! Hey!" Tire Guy shouts, panicked.

"What was he trying to do anyway? They're not on the same page!" The crowd laughs.

Unfazed by his failed bluff (so adorable, though), Haruichi shouts back, "I'll definitely get you back to the plate. Let's score a run together!"

And it elicits another wave of amusement from the audience.

"He just declared a run! Who is that kid?"

"Way too much of an optimist. I bet he's stupid, too."

And there it is. Haruichi's cute blush.

"Get him back to the plate? He doesn't look like a hard hitter!" The crowd continues with the negativity.

But Aya could only smile proudly and excitedly (although she did inch away from them). She just knows Haruichi could do it. _He's a Kominato, after all._

They question his grip on the bat. Yet he changes it just as Nori throws an outside pitch. He swings with ease and hits, as if he'd been anticipating it.

The ball travels right on the foul line. A flash of white runs past the first base just as the ball is confirmed fair. Tire Guy had started running the moment the pitcher threw, and now he's past second base. The second baseman gets ready to throw the ball just as the brunette runs past third base.

"Go!" Haruichi cheers on.

The catcher catches the ball, but the first-year touches the diamond before the catcher could even tag him.

"Safe!" the coach, who's also the umpire for this game, shouts.

The first-years, who seem to have no confidence at all in this player, cheer. They had finally scored their first run!

Alas, the top of the inning finishes with the next out. And a commotion starts right after.

"Both teams, line up!" the coach orders, despite the urging of the catcher to continue playing. This catches the players' attention, prompting Coach to elaborate. "Wrap it up. Even if we continue, the gap will only get wider."

"But I just got here," Aya mutters.

A moment of tense silence.

Then the coach continues, "However, if everyone on the first-year team wants to continue, it's a different story."

The first-years, except for Tire Guy and Haruichi, suddenly go downcast. But Tire Guy manages to re-motivate them, although their response came out quite harsh.

Well, if someone who they said had played so badly would start to preach, wouldn't that irk you too?

They pleaded to continue, but the coach reprimands, "Why couldn't you play like that from the start? In high school baseball, you don't get a second chance." Then he ends up picking the loud brunette to play pitcher in the bottom half of the inning.

"How _tsun_." Aya giggles. "But those words ring true." She nods to herself, then smiles. More Haruichi! Assuming he'd be playing in this inning. Of course he would be, right?"

"Whoa! What's going on here?" a loud voice everyone knows booms by the bullpen, interrupting her from her reverie. "What's with this turnout against the first-years? You should be up by 200 runs!"

 _Jun-san?_

Aya almost shrinks back when she looks. Joining Miyuki and Furuya in the bullpen are Kuramochi and the only non-playing seniors Isashiki Jun, Yuuki Tetsuya, and Kominato Ryousuke.

 _What is he doing here? Isn't he supposed to be on a day-off? Then again, Miyuki had come to watch, so why wouldn't he too? Maybe he wants to watch his brother?_

"I'll throw every pitch right down the middle!"

"What?" The loud first year pitcher's declaration catches her ears. And if she hadn't been too shocked, she would've face-palmed at that.

"I'm gonna be giving up a lot of hits, so it's all up to you, defense!" he continues loudly with a laugh.

Another bluff from the first years?

NO.

The first batter hits, but the left fielder catches. The upperclassmen's first out.

The next hitter hits again, but the ball seems to just fly into the third baseman's glove. Another out. Both times, Tire Guy had only thrown the ball down the middle. And he's doing it again!

This time, the ball gets jammed when the third hitter hits it, but it gets caught by the second baseman. Haruichi.

Aya's eyes widen. Not only because this ends the inning early – and amazingly at that, considering the first-years' earlier scores – but also because Haruichi had underhandedly caught the ball in his glove before throwing it to the first baseman to score another out over the upperclassmen.

That play style. It is similar to his brother's.

His brother's first ever move she had ever drawn.

The first-years exit the field, with some team mates nudging Haruichi good-heartedly.

"Nice, Haruichi!" she couldn't help cheering with the crowd.

"Ah, there she is." Miyuki picks out the familiar voice.

"Girlfriend?" The pink-haired senior turns to him.

Miyuki laughs, yet eyes him suspiciously. "I'm not into incest, Ryou-san."

Haruichi didn't notice her, getting overwhelmed by their progress. That's okay, but Aya just suddenly gets an uneasy feeling.

No one had stopped and ridiculed her for being passionate with the turn of events, since this is an all-male and equally-absorbed audience. But she can't help feeling like she's being stared down.

 _Must be Kazuya? Maybe he's been waiting for me? Gross, though_. Aya looks at the bullpen.

And almost curses when she realizes how easily she had forgotten about the other people there.

Kominato Haruichi may not have spared her a glance, but his brother did. No, it's not even a glance. Even if you can't see his eyes, anyone would know he's staring at her.

* * *

The game ends with the upperclassmen unsurprisingly victorious, with a score of 20 runs over 1. The first-years aren't able to score any more runs, but their enthusiasm would lead them to improve. They'd get there.

Just like how this baby would get commissions very soon. Aya holds up her sketchbook with a sigh. Haruichi's plays today would surely get him promoted to second-string, and he'd get noticed more and more. As he climbs up to first-string, he'd get a fanbase that would request for drawings of him! Her gut feeling never goes wrong.

While the audience had packed up to go (she learns from them that Tire Guy is named Sawamura), Aya went over to the almost-empty school yard to work on her art of the day.

Haruichi is drawn catching the ball in that play style she's very familiar with. She had wanted to see how his pink hair would look like with the sunset background, but the game had ended just as the sky turned orange. So she had no choice but to imagine it as she colored his hair in.

"So I was right," a shiver went up her spine, "to assume why you were there…"

Aya looks to her left.

"...even if the first-stringers wouldn't play."

"H-have you been there all along?" Her heart thunders in her chest.

"You'd actually used my hair as reference. For my copy."

So she did not imagine seeing a beautiful mix of cotton candy pink and sunset orange? "Your copy? You mean, your brother?"

Kominato just looks at the sketchbook in her hands.

"Ah! H-he does resemble you a lot! In hair color, in..." she hesitates "...in height... and even in skill!" she follows up quite rushed.

"You've measured us against each other like that already."

"I make sure to observe my subjects well so I could draw them accurately."

Kominato chuckles. "You never fail to amuse me when you admit to being a creep so easily." He then straightens up from leaning against the backrest of the bench Aya is sitting on.

And she can't help but stare. At his hair. It really is beautiful against a background like this. It's like he is one with the sky. Her coloring can barely compare to the real thing.

Orange. The color of the sunrise, a symbol of new projects on the rise.

And the color of sunset, symbolizing...

"Ain't it nice? Once I'm gone, you'd have a new muse."

Aya blinks, as if snapping out of her trance. "I don't—"

"Don't overdo it, though. I don't want him crying to me because a senior harasses him."

Aya frowns. "Hmph." She starts clearing the bench of her art supplies. "As far as I know, I haven't harassed anyone. It's _you_ who does that." She stands up and faces him fully. "And to answer your question, it would be nice. Very nice. Haruichi would be a more pleasant-mannered muse."

It's a lie. Haruichi is, for a lack of a better term, a passing interest. Wouldn't anyone else just be happy and excited over a new friend?

But the older brother would always stay on a higher level. The main source of inspiration. She knows she can't and won't change muses that soon. Or will she ever? Can she even?

Kominato's smirk grows. "I wonder about that."

Her eyes widen. "About his attitude?"

"Of course not."

 _Did he just read my mind?_ She stares at him, perplexed, before finally shrugging. "Oh, well, I wish you luck in the Kanto game." She bows farewell, and without waiting for a reply, she hurriedly leaves.

* * *

 **And so here's to my self-made tradition of posting something on my birthday. This is super duper late, considering my birthday was last Thursday.**

 **Did I narrate the game right? Like, does it make you excited or something? It was hard to decide which speaking lines have to be cut ^^' I also had the impression that since the practice field isn't as big as the real one, the audience could hear most of what's said in the dugout. Also, I've been estimating the days and times, so please tell me if I need to correct something!**

 **Also, I've never been good with colors, so please feel free to help me out whenever my color choices and combinations are off.**


	4. Trigger

**Important! I tweaked a few stuff in the past chapters, so please do check them out again (and besides, after this two-year hiatus, it's good to refresh yourself first, right?)**

* * *

"Copy?" Aya flops down on her bed, brown hair splayed all over her pillows. "What does he even mean by that?" She holds up her sketchbook, flipped open to her drawing of Haruichi. Then, even if it had been a month since she actually talked to him, she remembers how Haruichi talked about his brother.

Haruichi had enrolled in Seidou – had started playing baseball, even – because of his older brother. And with him playing second baseman today, it's easy to deduce that Haruichi likes to follow in his brother's footsteps.

And based on experience, the older Kominato doesn't like that.

"Oh no!" She suddenly sits up. "What if, right at this moment, poor little Haruichi is out doing errands for his seniors and he accidentally bumps into his brother who would bully him?"

Or maybe not.

Maybe Kominato only doesn't like being followed by her. Maybe he just doesn't like _her_.

"Well, it's just one more year. That's nothing compared to the rest of his life without me." Aya falls back on her pillows, then turns to her side to hug the nearest one. "He should even consider himself lucky." She hides her face under the pillow and closes her eyes. "He won't be the one returning to a life of stagnant gray."

The next day, Aya spies the principal and vice-principal heading towards the field to presumably watch morning practice. It's one thing to be caught by the Coach sometimes, and another to let the misunderstanding of her constant presence there extend to the school officials. No way would she let that happen.

But then she doesn't watch the after-school practice, nor drop by for the next two practice days. And despite her excitement, she doesn't even attend the Kanto game anymore.

Firstly, it's a school day. Secondly, Seidou would play against Yokohama, where most of her old classmates back in Kanagawa are now studying. She wouldn't want to hear again the lines, "As expected of Makoto-san! If she's not holed up in a corner with a sketchbook, you'd find her in the bleachers of a baseball game!" and "What's that? You're drawing baseball players now? You've just combined your eccentricities!"

And, okay, maybe she's still a bit bitter.

What is she even trying to prove? That she can survive without a muse? She certainly did before, so it shouldn't be any different now. And didn't she once wish to stop depending on the senior so much for her to be productive? But here she is, in the middle of a creative stump. The world has become a boring gray, hence it started reflecting on her daily works - if it's not black-ink-abused, it would simply be colorless.

Friday rolls around and she's kicked out of the club room, only allowed to return once she picks herself back up. In the one year she's been with the Art Club, she knows it's just out of disguised concern and trust, so she harbors no hurt feelings. But it leaves her no choice but to set out for the field.

Nope. She also has the choice to procrastinate for one day more.

On her way home, she shoots Miyuki a message to ask if there's a game tomorrow, to which he answers hours later with an affirmative.

(Yet it was an unusually clipped reply. Aya is highly suspicious that he's pissed – not at her, though, for there are telltale signs if it is so – but unless she wants to be put into a grayer mood – for an upset Kazuya would, in turn, upset her too – she chalks it up to him just being exhausted.)

And what luck. To narrow the participating players in Summer Nationals down to twenty, double-header games have begun. In one day, two schools would be invited over for practice games against Seidou's first-string and second-string at the same time on different fields.

It hadn't been a problem last year. With Miyuki and Kuramochi getting into first-string, she got to support them while she watched the pink-haired senior.

This year, though, Haruichi has been confirmed to be promoted to second-string.

Damn Kominato Ryousuke.

If she chooses the first-string game, it'd be like betraying a new friend. And if she chooses the second-string game, he would believe what she said last time about preferring Haruichi over him and—

WHAT.

Why does she even care what the third-year would think? Why does she even think that he would so much as spare a thought of her?

As she mulled things over, Aya's feet leads her to Field A well after two innings. She barely finishes squeezing her way towards the front of the crowd when Furuya steps off the mound, as urged by Miyuki – the evil being who 'forgot' to inform her that today's a double-header.

Not long after, Tanba runs out of the dugout, claims the mound, and immediately throws a curveball that leads to a strike.

"Hey, hey! I'm getting bored out here!" Jun-san complains lightheartedly when his friend throws another strike.

"You seem to be in a real good position," Kuramochi adds.

But all these had happened only in Aya's peripheral, for her eyes had already instinctively searched for him and locked there.

"You're finally acting like the ace," Kominato Ryousuke says with his signature smirk. "A little late, though."

Despite being in the gray moment of indecision, she still ended up choosing the older brother. "This is crazy," she mutters to herself.

What's even crazier is that two weeks later, she's still banned from the Art Club.

What is going on with her? Is it because she only drops by during games now? Does she really need to see him every day? Or has she ultimately jinxed everything and the world of colors had finally failed her, as what everyone back home expects?

On times like these, she reverts back to drawing pictures of the past – of her elegantly boring life back in Kanagawa. Today, she draws a portrait of herself in a kimono, in her personal favorite color – gray. The color that describes her family's status, and the future she is being forced into. But it's also the color of her safe space. It's true that she had fought to get her parents to arrive at a compromise, yet a gray life is what she could always fall back to if this all turns out to be a wrong decision, a mere whim.

"Won't you be ruining your eyesight, drawing in a place like this?"

Aya stops. Slowly, she straightens up and looks to her left.

The twilight shining in through the stair windows is still bright enough for her to actually see what she's doing, even to see the gray dust motes floating in the air. And right now, floating in between her and Kominato Ryousuke.

"Just where did you come from?" The moment she asks that, she realizes she had dropped polite speech. She opens her mouth to apologize.

But he simply answers, "I forgot something in the classroom."

Right, the Art Club is way up in the third floor of the school building, where the third-year classrooms are. It is close to the set of stairs that not a lot of people go through at this time of day, so Aya had been settling there in hopes of the members taking pity on her when they see her.

What a successful plan that is, so far.

"I see." She nods slowly, then hesitantly turns back to the sketchbook in her lap, not quite knowing if she should continue drawing.

Maybe Kominato let her rude question slide, but maybe he won't appreciate being blatantly brushed off when he for once approached her with nothing but curiosity. Especially when he doesn't move at all from his seat on the steps, with only Aya's box of colored pencils finally serving a purpose – a barrier between them. "So this is where you usually are these days," he finally speaks again.

"Actually, I would've been in the club room, but since I'm temporarily not allowed in there for producing very uninspired works..." she trails off with a sigh.

"How so? You were even watching the second-stringers' game today. Haruichi had played."

"But _you_ didn't."

The senior goes silent.

This is the part where Kominato would call her out for being creepy again, and Aya is ready for it.

But today he just... continues to say nothing in response.

Confused, Aya turns to look at him again.

The dimming light from the stair windows doesn't do much, though, especially when his face is turned away from her. But he is obviously biting his lip.

"Kominato-san? Are you okay?"

He breathes deeply. "You're really… something else."

That statement is still grounds for an argument to start, but there's just something about his tone that says otherwise. That suddenly makes her heart flutter. That slowly triggers colors to seep back in. It's so startling, that the only thing she could do was to look back down at her sketchbook.

Kominato finally clears his throat. "May I... see the drawings you usually do?"

"Huh?" Surprised yet again, she snaps her head towards him. What is going on? Why is he suddenly interested, when all this time he had hated the idea of her drawing him? And did he of all people stutter?

The guy is apparently not looking at _her_ , but at _her_ in the current page of her sketchbook.

Of all the things she has to draw today, it'd have to be of her fitting a kimono. Not-so-discreetly covering it with her arms, she decides the best way to take his attention off it is to comply with him. And he _is_ asking nicely. "Sure, why not?" But she pauses at the first drawing she reveals. "Oh. Do you mean you want to see the drawings I have of... of _you?_ "

Kominato _nods_. "I want to confirm something."

Again, what exactly is happening here? Is she in some kind of dream?

He looks up at her. "Well?"

This has got to be the craziest thing to happen to her this week. "Okay," she says, dragging the last syllable out of reluctance, but then continues to turn the pages.

Now, it's one thing to have a muse who doesn't exactly get flattered for being one. And another to have said muse looking at your unsolicited drawings of them.

But she isn't cringing, for all her brain registers right now is that the boy had scooted closer to practically hover over her shoulder and she could feel his warmth and he smells so nice and –

"Are requests open right now?" He's suddenly putting the distance between them back up.

"What?" Her eyes widen at all her thoughts during the ordeal, the sudden loneliness she felt when it ended, and the weirdest thing that's ever come out of his mouth.

"Requests. You take requests from people and draw, don't you? Commissions, you call them?"

"You... you want me to commission you a drawing."

Kominato suddenly faces forward, at the big windows. "Yes. But please draw my eyes properly."

It takes everything in her not to laugh out loud. She bites her lip. "I'm sorry, Kominato-san, but that's pretty hard to do. I don't exactly know what your eyes look like."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm-hmm, so - what are you _doing_? _"_

"How about now?"

She's now backed up against the wall, a clear view of Kominato Ryousuke's black irises right in front of her. Relying on her photographic memory, she closes her eyes after a few seconds. "1200 yen. That's an inked close-up portrait of you, in full color."

"That's fair."

"I think so too." But when she opens her eyes, he's still _there_. "Senpai," she now whines, sliding the sketchbook in between the small distance between their faces, "is this actually a trap?" And with a sudden burst of courage, she jokes, "I didn't know you feel that way."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Finally, he draws back from her. Even better, he stands up. "Okay. I'll see you around."

She peeks at him from one corner of the sketchbook. "Please expect your order in a week or so."

Kominato nods noncommittally, already bounding down the stairs.

As Aya tries to process everything that just happened, she first notices that the world of gray is gone.

* * *

 **Hello, everybody! Your favorite girl is back! Lol, maybe that's going a bit too far, sorry. Anyway, after two years, I finally got the chance to rewatch! Adulting is hard :(**

 **Gosh, I really missed this fic! And it's also really touching that people have been telling me that this is one of their favorite fics in the fandom! I find it kind of hard to believe, considering our problem of Aniki not getting much love in this fandom. Thanks so much!**

 **And ooh, ooh, I posted this on Tumblr too and someone asked if I was the same person and that just makes my heart swell because it means they want to protect this story from being plagiarized aaaah thank you so much if you're reading this, I love you!**

 **And BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FUTURE HUSBAND, PIKORIN! The voice of Aniki, and all my other husbandos (well, most of them)! It's sad that I couldn't post this on his birthday itself. The chapter's not even halfway finished by that time. But here we are! Hoping for continuous updates!**


	5. Truce

The first color that registers is red.

She sees it – or rather, realizes it's what her eyes had caught before he ran away – on Kominato Ryousuke's cheeks.

She feels it on her own ones.

Hence, watching practice the next day has become awkward.

It's not new for him to notice her there – it is the very matter of their banters, after all. But Kominato never looks back a second time. Until today.

Each time she would calm down, he would glance at her, and red would just creep back up to the tips of her ears.

Once, he holds her gaze for a few seconds too long before hitting very cleanly each baseball thrown at him. If this is like those cliché scenarios in books and movies, is it supposed to mean that he had performed well for her? Because she swears he had on the faintest hint of a smile. Does he think this is some kind of fun joke?

Aya takes a deep breath. Reminds herself that she has to get through this. She needs to get back to the Art Club, plus she would get paid for this. It's all for a good cause.

Promising him a week minimum is a good call, for the pre-summer training camp had started that Friday. The usual before- and after-school practices would not only intensify, but also extend until evening. She wouldn't want to disturb him at such a busy time (she's just guilty of letting two days pass idly by). And since the players would practically be living in the field for a week, it's the perfect time to gather inspiration. For right on the camp's first morning practice, Aya would be blessed with her most-awaited sight.

The pink-haired brothers are at batting practice together! With Haruichi getting promoted to first-string (which Miyuki had not-so-subtly told her the day after the announcement, with Kuramochi overhearing then making a fuss over her being a player), he has now received the right to be on the same field as his brother. And he definitely does not disappoint at how easily he could keep up with the third-year in catching and throwing. Their movements could even be described as identical.

For now. Training camp, as what Aya had witnessed last year, would be hell as it progresses.

But for now, she is swelling up with pride. Inevitably, her eyes trail over to the older brother.

As the players wait for the next cart of baseballs to be rolled over to the one batting for them, Kominato Ryousuke pauses to regard the unsuspecting first-year with a small smile.

Happiness for her junior who is step-by-step achieving his dream of getting acknowledged by his idol, and, she has to admit, happiness because she's sharing the same emotions at the exact same moment as the senior, makes her flush red. Or maybe because the sun had already risen high enough to shine on her sensitive skin now.

Or maybe because a shortstop named Kuramochi, standing near the Kominatos competing for the second baseman position, is now eyeing her with a knowing grin.

Aya could only groan.

The next problem to being uninspired is not knowing exactly _what_ she'd draw. The scenes from practices and games that she draws have always been limited by the distance between her spot outside the fence and her subjects positioned in the diamond within a large field. The main reason why she draws Kominato with his eyes closed. She knows they aren't, but that's just how he usually appears in her perspective.

So that leaves her with the only clear image she has of his eyes.

And that would lead her to recall every single detail of how she came to see them, and most especially the moment itself where there had been mere three-ish inches between them – small beads of sweat remaining unwiped from the side of his face, their intermingling breaths, his boyish scent, his dry lips, and lastly, the piercing gaze of his black irises. Such details would, in a way, make it her first intimate drawing.

What a great thing to think about right in the middle of the cafeteria line.

And Aya almost gets a heart attack when she looks up and sees pink hair right in front of her. Almost. She's now good enough to recognize the stark difference in their haircuts from behind. Breathing a sigh of relief, she taps his shoulder. "Haruichi~"

Haruichi looks back over his shoulder and instantly brightens up. "Oh, Aya-san!"

"Long time, no see!" Aya grins, stopping herself from adding, _what with all that bangs blocking your eyes_.

"Yeah." Haruichi scratches the back of his head. "It's been pretty hectic."

"Don't worry about it. You got to first-string, so it's not without reward!"

Red colors his cheeks. "That's a pretty harsh way to put it."

She pauses. Pink and red is a combination she'd stuck on Haruichi, but had never imagined seeing on his brother. Could the genes that gave them unique hair (and a sad height) also be responsible for them both to blush... _cutely_? But what startles Aya is that she might be the only one who knows that. She gives her best reassuring smile. "But you've got to admit that it's an achievement. So, congratulations!"

Haruichi chuckles. "Thank you, Aya-san." He picks up a tray from the stack.

Aya gets a piece of milk bread. She's too distracted these days to cook lunch for herself and Miyuki. "Has your brother said anything?"

Haruichi softly sighs and shakes his head as he continues to fill his tray. Even cute little boys have big appetites, it seems. "He had never once even looked me in the eyes."

Aya sucks in a breath. _Hold it in, Aya. Stop making jokes about these brothers' eyes!_ "Really? Not even a single 'congratulations?'"

"Maybe he doesn't think I'm ready for first-string yet."

Aya's head snaps towards him to say something along the lines of, _'Are you serious? You're already there! In fact, he's—'_

But that train of thought cuts off as she sees Haruichi with a determined expression, as if his brother's indifference is what ultimately fuels him.

She hums in thought. Maybe it might be more fulfilling for him to slowly discover that his brother has already been impressed. "I'm sure he wouldn't have told you to go to Seidou without knowing you'd get into first-string, won't he?"

"Aniki… actually didn't. At least, not directly."

"I don't get it."

"He told me not to follow him." Haruichi smiles at the memory. "But when I walked with him to the station the next day, he told me to go to whichever school I'd like."

Hold up. "…Is he always like that? Saying things in the harshest way possible, but actually means the opposite?"

He grins. "You must be good friends with Aniki if you're able to say that about him."

She only laughs uneasily. With a final wish for good luck, Aya excuses herself to allow her a few moments of contemplative silence.

If Kominato Ryousuke is some kind of tsundere, and his brother, who has been living with the guy for most of his life, agrees to it, then what would all those times the third-year had told her to stop "stalking" him actually mean? Is he just someone who gets flustered when people follow him, and therefore copes with it by being mean?

That's just… endearing.

Maybe Aya is twisted. Must run in the blood.

But why do people follow him in the first place?

Being friends with Kuramochi, one-half of the Keystone Combo, has Aya well aware of how harsh his senior had been on him before. But that seemed to have been the push for Kuramochi to work hard, making him one of the best middle infielders in the area alongside the older Kominato, his now-close friend.

And she's seeing a repeating pattern between the brothers, the younger of which now sporting a dirtied white uniform as he not only struggles to breathe, but also struggles to even catch a ball. Meanwhile, the older still manages to stand straight, with just a few specks of dirt here and there in his clothes.

It's only been the third day of camp (Tuesday of the following week, as the players are fortunate this year to be given a whole weekend of rest after the first day of tasting hell).

It's too bad that Aya's too far from them to hear their conversation – she also confirms that they really don't face each other when they talk – but in retrospect, it wouldn't be wrong to assume that he just said something harsh. But as she had now expected, Haruichi stands up and continues to practice with more motivation.

Kominato Ryousuke exudes an aura that makes people want to impress him the more he… well, 'bullies' them. Reverse psychology, is that what you call it? Because it all boils down to respect for how great of a player he is.

Personally, she could attest to that. For Aya is not just here for the aesthetic. The way he plays has also reeled her in.

Yet the full extent of his talent and efforts, which provide a different light to his taunts, could only be seen by his teammates.

Apparently, the fifth day of camp's after-school batting practice would change that.

Coach Kataoka walks over with his own bat, immediately hushing the whole field. "I'm batting," he announces.

The seniors (only, because Kuramochi, a sophomore, is horrified) seem to glow with excitement.

Coach points his bat at them. "First-year Kominato, get off the field!" he commands. "Everyone else, I hope you're ready!"

Haruichi, crouching with his hands on both knees as an attempt to catch his breath, takes one last look at his brother before he walks off.

"Let's go nonstop!" the coach shouts, to which the starters (minus Miyuki and Tanba presumably at the bullpen) answer with an affirmative roar.

From 4'o clock in the afternoon, the constant sound everyone hears is the Coach's bat hitting baseballs at a frightening speed. And because he is against Seidou's current cream of the crop, each baseball is caught and thrown back just in time for the next one to zoom through the diamond.

Alas, even these "monsters" have a limit.

"What's wrong?" the Coach shouts. "You're getting quiet!"

The seven fielders' fatigue from the past five days of camp has finally caught up to them, and being in the dark doesn't help one bit.

Dark? Aya looks around. Following Miyuki's strict advice from last year's camp, she had never stayed to watch evening practice. But how could anyone go home right in the middle of this?

The first-years finally remember to turn on the field's lights, illuminating most of the starters on their knees. But the two seniors infamous for being terror figures to the juniors remain barely standing.

Centerfielder Isashiki Jun weakly begs for another round.

"I can't hear you! Where's your usual attitude, Isashiki?" Coach bellows before sending the ball his way, but he misses and instead tumbles on the ground in the process, ending up curled in pain.

"Who taught you to catch like that?"

The next baseball is sent straight down the field again within the second baseman's range. Kominato Ryousuke misses.

"Where's that smirk of yours, Kominato?"

Kominato falls to his knees, curled up and coughing.

And Aya's heart is torn between breaking from the sight and pounding with newfound, if not strengthened, admiration.

Missing out on Kominato's beginning year in the team means she only got to witness his already-perfected plays. Though she knows that he had worked hard to achieve that – for everyone always has to start from scratch – it is overwhelming to see first-hand the red-hot passion he has for the sport. His skills are above others and he knows it, but he doesn't use that confidence to brag. He pushes his peers' buttons to provoke them into working past their limits like he does, or in certain people's cases, into working harder to surpass him.

But as Aya looks at his just-inked portrait on her desk later that night, she realizes something: she isn't his teammate, so why does he have to be harsh on her? If she then likens Haruichi's story of his brother's turnaround to that late afternoon Kominato Ryousuke suddenly expressed interest in her drawings _and then_ commissioned her to draw _him_ of all people, despite expressing 'disgust' over her hobby for the past year…

Is he just a guy embarrassed over the amount of attention a girl has been pouring on him?

Her cousin would know what to say. To an extent, outsiders could see things clearer. Plus, his position requires him to know every player, even in the tad bit personal category. But remembering how she had barely escaped his scolding earlier when he spotted her still at evening practice, she puts her phone down. She'd deal with that tomorrow. Although if Aya tells him that watching until late had triggered his ship to at last gain ground, maybe she could get away?

Wait, what?

Is that it? Is she really… crushing on the second baseman after all? Why else would she insist on making him her muse despite being told off? It seems like she herself had fallen for that charm. Why does she feel lonely whenever she remembers he'll disappear from her life come March next year? She even considers stopping this "foolishness" called art once she loses her only muse, because she knows no one else could replace him.

Makoto Aya is stubborn, but she's not one to deny truths. (Well, technically, she'd been in denial for a year, but at least she came through, right?) She's got it bad.

Training camp takes away every last bit of the players' free time, leaving only enough for eating and sleeping. Despite her earlier decision to wait it out, here she is outside Field A, a brown envelope in hand.

Aya had stayed up late to finish the commission, as well as to sort out her feelings, so she woke up well after morning practice began. It'd be disrespectful to call him in the middle of practice, so her next chance would be before afternoon practice starts. But then the whole team – not just the starters and managers who had all apparently caught on to her infatuation ever since – would see them. Shameless as she is, she wouldn't want that to happen. Approaching him at lunchtime wouldn't do, either, for Kominato always hangs out with his classmates, Jun-san and Masuko.

The only option left is to ask someone to relay a message to him. But who? Miyuki is automatically crossed off the list. Kuramochi would be the best bet. Or even the second-year managers, Yui and Sachiko, for female support. Yet while she's sure that they won't blab about this, they would also never let her live it down. Haruichi wouldn't have the heart to tease her, but considering his circumstances with his brother right now, Aya doubts they talk outside the field.

Damn, she really needs more friends.

"Makoto-san?" a melodic voice calls.

Aya looks up at the only third-year manager. "Takako-senpai!"

"Morning practice is over. You should go on ahead, or else you'd be late for first period." She gives the brunette a meaningful smile. "Or are you waiting for someone?"

The managers may tease her about the pink-haired senior, but Fujiwara Takako, Aya realizes, could be mature enough for this kind of favor. "Actually, I was waiting for you, senpai."

"Really?" She leans closer to whisper, "Are commissions open again?"

Aya inwardly smirks. Perfect. She is also one of her regular clients (although, her orders are all sworn to secrecy, for it wouldn't be good to seem like she's playing favorites). "Yes! And I'd be willing to prioritize your next request if… well, you'd do me a little favor?"

"Ah, you don't need to do that. I'd do anything for my sweet underclassman."

"Pfft, after I just kind of blackmailed you?"

* * *

 _Click._

At lunchtime, the door to the rooftop opens to reveal Kominato Ryousuke.

Aya stands up from one of the benches. "Over here, Kominato-san!"

He closes the door behind him and crosses the short distance between them, stopping at arm's length. The smirk that Aya had expected is missing. "Hello," he starts in a barely-steady voice. He clears his throat. "I was told you want to meet me up here."

She nods, and then holds up the envelope in between them. "I thought you might need some cheering up in the middle of the exhausting camp." As the third-year takes it from her, she adds, "I mean, assuming you'd like it."

Kominato opens the envelope and slides the paper out. The first thing anyone would notice is the trademark pink in her drawings of him, the color covering most of the top half of this one. As promised, his small eyes are not just mere two slanted lines anymore. Normally, it would have been intimidating, but the girl had drawn on slightly-parted lips to soften his expression into a curious one. "Wow," he can't help but whisper.

Aya stops fidgeting with the sleeves of her gray sweater. "Hm? Do you like it?"

He nods. "Yes. I… I didn't think it'd be better to hold one of your drawings up close."

Her eyes widen. " _Better_?" she repeats. "That would mean you already think my drawings are good."

"I do." And there it is. Aya's eyes are graced for the second time with a red-cheeked Kominato Ryousuke. "I was actually hoping I could talk to you about it if I ask for a commission. I know I've been a jerk. I'm sorry. I didn't really mean all that."

"Oh, so that's what it is…" She crosses her arms. "But you really required me to do more work just for that, huh?"

Kominato purses his lips. "I'm sorry for that, too."

Aya blinks. Pinches herself. Gets hurt. "You're serious."

He nods. "I promise I won't say such things again."

She smiles. "Well, if you're really sincere about it, and since I could get back to the Art Club because of you, then okay, I forgive you."

He sighs in relief and smiles back.

Scrambling to control the sudden staccato of her heartbeats, she says, "I was right, though, that you are a tsun."

His smile vanishes. "I am not."

"Oh yes, you are." She giggles, then pauses to look away. "It's cute, don't worry."

Kominato's sharp intake of breath could be heard clearly.

But before he could say something, Aya continues, "I wasn't planning on going through with it, but you went ahead and redeemed yourself."

"I don't get it."

"Uh, I think you could figure it out from the cliché setting by now."

"I wouldn't want to assume."

She gulps. "You see, I can completely understand why you're creeped out by me. I'm sorry for that. But I've only recently realized why I'm so persistent, and it's because I actually really like you."

There is silence as red spreads all over the senior's face. It reminds Aya of his brother, but it wouldn't be appropriate to mention another guy right now, wouldn't it?

She gives a nervous smile. "Yeah, so that's that. I'll see you around."

"Wait!"

Aya, already turning to collect her things from the bench, completely stops. He'd just raised his voice with her for the first time, and now she's even more startled. "Huh? What?"

"My answer is 'okay.'"

"...What?"

"What?"

"What do you mean by 'okay?'"

He takes a step forward. "'Okay, let's date.'"

"Why would we be dating?"

Kominato stops. "Huh?"

"I just told you that I like you. But you didn't even tell me if you like me back."

He frowns slightly. "Of course I like you too."

"'Of course?' How would I know that, _senpai_? You've been nothing but harsh on me. Oh, is that how you flirt with someone?"

"I—"

"And okay, let's say that's just your true nature: a tsundere. But then, why should we date just because we like each other? If you want us to be in a relationship, shouldn't you ask?"

"You're..." Kominato trails off to take a deep breath. "Fine." His frown deepens in thought, then he reaches out and takes one of her hands in his, once again getting close enough to look her straight in the eyes. "Makoto-san, would you like to be my girlfriend?"

She stares at him agape, before squeezing her eyes shut as she feels her face heat up and rival the shade of red he'd sported earlier. "Yes."

Their noses touch. "Then, may I—"

"Hey, I almost forgot!" Aya steps back, dropping his hand to hold her palm up. "Now, if you please." At the senior's confused frown, she says, "It's a commission, Kominato-san. You have to pay for it. And nope, being my boyfriend doesn't mean you're off the hook."

"...I understand." He fishes through his pants pocket for his wallet. He then places two 500-yen and two 100-yen coins on her still-outstretched hand.

Aya's hand immediately closes around the money and pockets it. "Pleasure doing business with you~"

"That's what's left of my lunch money this week." Kominato smirks. "You're a bit mean yourself."

"Then I guess we're meant for each other, huh?" She smirks back. "But you can't fool me. The whole team is loaded because you guys don't have time to go out anymore."

He deadpans, but the smirk finds its way back on his face a second later. "Well, I would have to now that I've got you, right?"

She laughs. "Nah, you've got Nationals to focus on first. Now," she sits back down on the bench and pats the space beside her lunch bag, "don't worry about lunch. I've cooked extra today."

As he takes the offer, he asks, "So does this count as first date?"

She freezes. "N-no. I would've given you these even if you didn't ask me out. It's still part of cheering you up."

As a reply, he softly says, "But you've always had, you know."

Kominato Ryousuke may have stopped tormenting her with insults, but he had definitely found a new way to kill her.

* * *

 **so I've noticed that Haruichi is in the character tags but there's not enough Haruichi. and ooh, did you expect that confession? I kinda didn't, too. but don't worry, I know what I'm doing ^^'**

 **anyway, why was this late? I got a long holiday since last chapter, but I ended up getting sick and swamped with work. besides, you should all learn by now that you can't trust me with update frequency (duh, two years?). but hey, I ended up writing 10 pages to make up for it!**

 **please tell my your thoughts about it!**

 **and Happy NaNoWriMo! technically this isn't a novel, but fanfics are already a novel in themselves, in my opinion.**

 **fun fact: this chapter's supposed to be titled "Cheer up, baby!" because, well, I'm trash.**


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